Super short story: When the music stops

This is a short story I wrote at some point in a (physical) notepad I carry with me. I most likely wrote it sometime in 2023.

They say that when you die, you know you're dead because you can't hear music anymore.

That night, the wind blew outside Walter and Claire's old house.

The wind chime tinkled, sweet in their ears, as they sat at their kitchen table, silently keeping one another company.

"How are you, Walter?"

Walter remain silent.

He slowly looked up at Claire with a sad look.

"Do you hear that, Claire?"

"No, Walter. What is it?"

"The wind chime. It stopped."

Claire looked deep into Walter's eyes.

Walter slowly drew back his chair.

He paused a moment, then stood up.

"Well, Claire, I'd best be going now."

"I know, Walter."

Walter started towards the door.

He'd always had a spritely step. Pit pat, pit pat, as he danced across the floor.

But, now, it was slow and tired.

Walter took the door handle gently, turned it, and drew the door open.

The air was still now.

Walter gave a deep sigh.

"I'd best be going now."

As Walter placed one foot out the door, he paused.

He turned to look back at Claire.

"Do you hear that, Claire?"

"What is it, Walter?"

Walter was silent for a moment, lost in a stare.

Then, a smile spread over his face.

"It's beautiful."

A note to myself: Awe in the mundane

This is another note I found when looking through a (physical) notepad I carry with me. I most likely wrote it sometime in 2023.

Seeing the colosseum in-person was a dream.

Growing up, history classes taught that it was the center of social life in a great empire. Events we can hardly imagine today were commonplace. It was the seat of glory, spectacle, and masculinity. It's the kind of place young boys fantasize about. And, honestly, fully grown men, too.

People speak of it being awe-inspiring. They say its presence is imposing. They say its connection with legends is energizing. When people visit, they stick out their fists and give a thumbs-up or thumbs-down, assuming the power to seal some gladiator's fate. Others stand in the arena sand and raise their arms in victory, imagining the raucous crowd adoring them.

I don't know what's happened to me in the years since my youth.

When I saw the colosseum in-person, I wasn't filled with awe.

In fact, I didn't even feel moved enough to go inside.

Maybe it was the dense crowd of tourists all around.

There just wan't any adventure to it. There wasn't any excitement.

I love history. It blows my mind how the events of the past brought us into the present.

So, why didn't I feel anything when I stood in front of this hallowed place?

It felt disconnected. It felt static.

Maybe it was because I've traveled and seen different parts of the world at this point. Maybe the novelty of certain things just wears off.

Maybe it has to do with where I place value. Glory has its appeal, but not in the way it once did. I'm much more interested in the complexities of living and what it means to be human. In the seemingly mundane struggles of day-to-day life.

I'm also more interested in action. I'm interested in exploring and discovering. I like an element of uncertainty. I'm animated by the excitement of discovery and learning.

A note to myself: I want to live for the journey, not the destination

I found this written on a notepad I use to keep notes. I'm not sure exactly when I wrote it, but it was probably in 2023 or early 2024, based on when when I bought the notepad.

My mission in life is to live it as a journey and not a destination.

To appreciate every tree, every stone, and every bug that I cross on the path.

To continually grow in my acceptance of myself as who I am.

To consistently seek balance in all things.

And, in the end, to able to say, "We sure did have a good time, didn't we?"